


Heat Haze Daze

by Etoileskies



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Popsicles, Slow Burn, Spoilers, attic shenanigans, gets more serious the further I go, give him a drink, shameless flirting, this poor boy is so thirsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-02 18:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10949922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etoileskies/pseuds/Etoileskies
Summary: Edit: The heat was unbearable. Akechi wondered why he agreed to make the godawful trip to Yongen-Jaya in the middle of a heat wave, but he can't deny it's the only place he's felt welcome. Unfortunately, Sojiro is no where to be seen, leaving him at the mercy of the playful barista.Akira on the other hand has a different problem altogether.This boy is too thirsty, and the ponytail isn't helping.





	1. Popsicles should be Illegal

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Spoilers past Okumura’s Palace. I’d love to write a fic post-game where Akechi survives. Maybe one day. Also, the story has nothing to do with the Kagerou Project.

**Akira** : You busy tomorrow morning?

 **Akechi** : Quite bold of you to assume I'm awake at 2am, don't you think?

 **Akira** : Less bold and more eager  

 **Akechi** : It seems our peerless leader is less patient than I thought. Sunday, right? I believe I can move my schedule around. Why?

 **Akira** : You. Me. Sci-Fi marathon at my place?

 **Akechi** : Ah, and here I thought you wanted to go to Mementos.

 **Akira** : In this heat wave? I’d rather cook in my attic, thank you very much. Unless you don’t want to have a play date with me?

There was a brief moment when Akechi stopped replying. The leader of the Phantom Thieves hesitated. Did he go too far? It was fun to tease the Detective Prince. Akechi’s reactions were so honest and (dare he say) cute, that Akira couldn’t help but push his buttons. And boy was he good and finding them.

Finally, he saw the telltale signs of typing on the other end until he received a reply.

 **Akechi** : Aren’t we a little old to have play dates?

 **Akira** : We’re also too old to use light sabers, but you don’t hear me complaining.

 **Akechi** : …I’ll be over at around 9.

 **Akira** : Bring _Rogue One_. I don’t have it yet

 **Akechi** : You’re incorrigible

 **Akira** : I don’t know the meaning of the word.

Beside him, Morgana let out a sound that could only be described as a gag. Akira couldn’t exactly blame him. It’s not exactly normal to hang out with someone planning to kill you. Then again, it’s not normal to be a Grade A student by day and a Phantom Thief by night.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Morgana asked after hacking up a metaphorical hairball.

“When do I ever?” Akira shrugged. Morgana dug his claws into his leg. “Okay, okay I get it. I’ll be careful. I just…” he tried to formulate a response that would placate the cat. Morgana sighed when he couldn’t and leapt off the bed.

“I’m staying over at Futaba’s. At least she has A/C.”

“It can’t be _that_ bad.”

“Anything’s better than your thirsty flirting.”

“I'm _not_ thirsty.”

"But you _are_ flirting."

"...Go to sleep, Morgana."

* * *

Akira loved it when the café was open. He loved the smell of coffee roasting and mingling with the scent of curry in the morning. The work wasn’t too hard, either. Leblanc never had a crazy service rush. Crazy customers, yes, but work was relaxing compared to his other part-time jobs.

However for once, he’s glad that Sojiro took the day off (although Akira heard it had something to do with forcing Futaba to clean her room for once). He wouldn’t have to worry about customers asking why the charismatic Goro Akechi was hanging out with a delinquent. Speaking of which…

No later than 9:15 did the door swing open, revealing an irritated Akechi wiping the sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief. No doubt he was asking himself why he agreed to come to Leblanc in the middle of a heat wave. Akira couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of the Ace Detective looking disheveled and miserable in his button down shirt and slacks. Did he even own a T-shirt?

“Good morning. I don’t suppose you could pour me some water? I’m boiling alive here.” He smiled politely. Akira gestured him to sit at the counter while he prepared a cold glass. Akechi’s calm and collected façade was betrayed by how fast he finished his drink. His refill disappeared just as quickly. “That hit the spot. Thanks.”

“You haven’t been here a minute and you’re already drinking me out of house and home,” Akira leaned forward on the counter. “How will you ever repay me?”

“I enjoy coming to Leblanc as much as anyone, but _you_ should be paying _me_ for making the awful trip here.” Akechi chuckled, albeit the look in his eyes made Akira think he wasn’t kidding. Regardless, Akechi revealed a plastic bag he had been holding. He placed on the counter. “I hope these would suffice?” Curiously, Akira opened the bag to find a small assortment of popsicles.

“I was kidding, you know.” He said in astonishment. “You didn’t have to bring anything.”

“On the contrary, the storeowner saw me walk by and offered them to me. Probably saw me a step away from death by dehydration.” Akechi replied with a dramatic sigh and his ‘perfect’ smile. Akira wasn’t fooled. That shopkeeper wouldn’t give freebies to save a life. The Phantom Thief could just imagine the detective randomly grab from the small selection of Popsicles in an effort to escape the summer heat. No doubt he was cursing up a storm under his breath when he thought no one could hear him.

Maybe next time Akira would meet him half way just to see that.

“Let’s enjoy these over a movie. Prepare yourself, Detective Prince. I stand by my theory of Jar Jar Binks being a Sith Lord, and I’m about to break out the evidence.”

* * *

Ice cream is a treat made by god himself. Akira deduced this from two principal facts.

First: it was a great distraction.

Even though his windows were wide open and his fan was working over time, the air in the attic was disgustingly humid. At the very least the cold ice cream gave him the impression that he wasn’t dying of heat stroke.

Second: it was a _great_ distraction.

From the corner of his eye he could see Akechi leaning back against the couch like a languid cat on a porch. Although his eyes were focused on the movie, his whole body posture was relaxed and so utterly _human_ that Akira forgot that he was hunting the Phantom Thieves. Akechi idly sucked and licked at the cherry red Popsicle in his mouth, and it took every ounce of Akira’s Proficiency to hold on to his own melting ice cream. He shifted uncomfortably on his side of the couch and finished his dessert.

Forget God. Satan himself must have created ice cream. Only a demon could invent such a sinful temptation.

“…no more than comic relief. His mannerisms are nowhere close to the refined and calculated movements of a Force user, let alone a Sith Lord.” Akechi piped up after finishing his Popsicle. Akira blinked out of his less than pure reverie. “I’d say his survival amounts more to luck than skill.”

Akechi spun the wooden Popsicle stick between his fingers with a dexterity that would be better put towards thievery than police work.

 _What a shame_ , thought Joker.

“In my experience, there’s no such thing as luck.” Akira replied sagely.

There was a brief moment of silence before both boys laughed heartily, although one more subdued than the other. Still, Akira couldn’t help but relish the boyish glow on Akechi’s cheeks. The bags under his eyes lightened and the stressed lines between his brows faded.

“You would know all about luck, wouldn’t you Joker?” Akechi asked. “After all, you’ve been struck with the worst luck to be sentenced to this attic prison.”

“I wonder…”

They were all smiles and banter, but Akira felt his right hand twitch in anticipation. It was the same feeling as when he felt a shadow approaching in Mementos. It was the same instinct to reach for his dagger and kill his enemy before it killed him.

But he knew better than to react as such now. There was a challenge in Akechi’s voice that he couldn’t help but rise up to. Akira smirked and shifted closer until the knees barely brushed. He leaned in closer, invading the Ace Detective’s space more than ever before. The smile vanished from Akechi’s lips as he sucked in a sharp breath. His lips were tinted rouge from the Popsicle, as if inviting Joker to steal them for himself.

“I think I consider myself _very_ lucky right now.” He whispered in a low, husky tone. Akira was so close that his breath tickled Akechi’s skin.

Akechi swallowed thickly. The motion wasn’t lost on the thief. He watched the movement with half-lidded eyes. “O-Oh? I can’t fathom why.”

“You're a detective,” Akira, no, Joker purred. It looked like the thief wanted to devour him.  Akechi suppressed a shiver. "I'm sure you can figure it out."

Akira saw the briefest flicker of blown out desire and curiosity in Akechi’s eyes. Just an inch. A little push is all it would take. Then, maybe Akira would know if months of confusion and guilty pining were mutual, and not teenage hormones at work.

God he hoped it was mutual.

But instead of following his instinct, Akira reined it in and pulled his face away from the speechless detective. Ever the Phantom Thief, he brought up the Popsicle stick that Akechi once spun between his fingers. Akechi blinked. The word ‘Winner’ was branded on the stick.

_When did he…?_

“Loser has to grab water from downstairs.” Akira winked and leaned back to his original spot on the couch expectantly, leaving a dazed and dumbfounded Akechi. After a beat he stood up abruptly and stomped towards the stairs with a scowl. His eyes were alight with anger, but his cheeks betrayed him with a brilliant blush.

“I hate you.”

“Oh, I can tell.”


	2. I know exactly what you were thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wild ponytail has appeared!
> 
> Akira finally gets a drink but Joker is still thirsty. 
> 
> ...I have nothing more to tell you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who put this angst in my fluff?
> 
> Also, I stand by my belief that canon Akira is a smug son of a bitch that everyone wants to bang—even Ryuji. I love it. Prepare for more flirting, sexual innuendos, and a surprising splash of angsty plot.

“ _Fuck_ …”

The bed creaked. Akira threw his arm over his eyes and groaned pitifully. His fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt before pulling it up to expose a large expanse of skin.

“Akechi, please…”

There was a loud bang from the café downstairs. “I don’t know what you’re doing up there, but keep me out of your wanton desires!”

“Waterrrrrrrrr…” Akira whined childishly in a way that would make Futaba proud. “I thirst!”

He felt like dying. If his dangerous love life didn’t kill him first, the heat surely would. It was less an attic and more an oven in the middle of summer. He hadn’t kept track of time, but surely getting two cups of water didn’t take this long! The sweetness of the ice cream left his throat parched and in desperate need of drink.

“You done down there yet?” Akira called again.

“Just a moment,” the detective snapped from downstairs. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me I had ice cream on my face.”

 _Why tell you when I wanted to clean it myself?_ He thought devilishly.

The stairs squeaked and Akira sat up immediately. When he finally saw Akechi’s mop of chestnut hair, he frowned impatiently before his jaw nearly dropped at the sight.

An accusing scowl marred Akechi’s handsome face, but Akira was too busy marveling at the rare sight before him. The detective prince’s hair was hastily pulled back with a bright red band. Wet bangs clung to his skin. He must have washed his face. Droplets gathered at the silky ends of his hair only to crash land onto the attic floor.

Screw the ice cream. A fucking ponytail would be the end of him.

His third eye was more a curse than a blessing for once. Now that his hair was secured, Akira could see every bead of water trickle down his pale neck with torturous clarity. He watched their slow descent until they disappeared beneath the white collar of his shirt. Akira bit back a groan.

To say he was thirsty was the understatement of the century.

“You really should get a bigger fan—Kurusu? Is there something else on my face?”

He wants to say something witty, but the joke died in this throat. “Uhhhh.”

_Yeah, that’s totally witty. What happened to your debonair charm? Your dauntless guts? You’re a gentleman thief for God’s sake!_

Akechi narrowed his eyes in defensive suspicion. It was rare that the Phantom Thief didn’t have some coy comeback prepared. He brought a hand to his cheek in a brief moment of self-consciousness. “Did I miss a spot?”

A beat. Finally, Akira let out a laugh so refreshing that it took Akechi aback. “W-What!?”

“Nothing, nothing. And don’t worry. You got it all.” he assured and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “By the way, you look good like that. Your hair, I mean.”

"I'm not a huge fan of long hair, but I've been too busy to schedule a haircut." Akechi twirled a few wet strands of hair between his fingers. "And the last time I tried cutting it myself it turned into a disaster."

"You with a bad hair day? I can't imagine it." Akira grinned. "Don't worry. I hear guys with longer hair are all the rage lately. Usually means you have a _riveting_  backstory."

Akechi sighed exasperatedly and handed Akira a glass of water before he leaned his back against the windowsill. “You are impossible. I can never tell when you’re being serious or not.”

“Oh?” Akira hummed. “And here I thought I was the definition of serious. My code name is Joker after all.”

“Haha...” Akechi rolled his eyes, but said nothing more. Akira frowned upon sensing the sudden shift in mood.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“ _Goro_.”

Akechi flinched. It was as if the name struck him physically. Its been years since anyone addressed him as such, and even then those memories weren't all too pleasant. Still, he refused to spill. Akira stood and put his empty glass on his work desk. The melting ice clinked at the movement. He stood directly in front of the detective now. Akira didn’t trap him, per say. Akechi had two exit routes to either side, and Akira knew he could easily shove him aside if he wanted to.

“Talk to me.”

Shoving him aside is the last thing Akechi does. The detective tightened his hold on his glass and sighed. It’s a wonder how it hadn’t cracked under the pressure.

“Why did you accept my deal so easily?” he finally spoke. His voice lacked all pretenses of niceties and good will. In its place was bitterness and suspicion. “Even if I’m vital to stealing Sae-san’s treasure, you accepted my proposal so quickly. It’s as if you would have accepted me into your group even without my strong-arming.” Akechi’s voice cracked with a rare sign of weakness. A chink in his princely armor. “With the Metaverse you could do anything. You could obtain fame and fortune at your fingertips. And just by my order you’re willing to disband the Phantom Thieves?” Akechi laughed bitterly. “ _No one_ is that perfect or selfless. Not even me. I couldn’t…”

As if realizing his error, he turned away and slammed his cup on the desk with a resounding crack. The conversation was over.

He must have used more force than he thought, because a thin crack erupted from the bottom of the glass.

“Sorry—”Akechi began and made a motion to pick the cup back up, but Akira stopped him by placing his hand over his. Even though the detective held the cold glass for so long, his skin was burning hot.

“You’re right. No one is that perfect.” Akira spoke softly. He moved just a bit closer and took hold of both of Akechi’s hands in his own. Just the barest amount of pressure to let him know he was there, but not enough to ensnare him. Not yet. “But you don’t need to be perfect to be needed.”

Akechi did everything in his power to hold back his choked gasp at the words, but it still wouldn’t be enough. _It must be the heat_ , he mused. It’s creating a haze in the mind and a mist behind his eyes, and Akira is all too good at maneuvering through smoke and mirrors. As if sensing Akechi’s growing distress, Akira gave his hands a fond squeeze.

“And, while I’m being perfectly candid, I might as well tell you. We don’t have to make a deal for me to take orders from you.”

He shuddered at Akira’s velvet purr. Akira must have felt it, too, because he began to draw idle circle’s on the detective’s wrist with his thumb. His pulse quickened.

 _Well if that doesn’t arouse some ideas then I don’t know what will_ , Akechi thought and attempted to act with some shred of dignity. 

“A Gentleman Thief indeed. I feel my very breath has been stolen,” Akechi made a vain attempt at their earlier light-hearted theatrics as a relieved smile touched his lips. “Arsene was right to choose you.”

Never one to miss an opportunity, Akira had the audacity to play coy. He gently cupped Akechi’s chin and tilted it upward, forcing them to lock eyes. His irises darkened once more in thinly veiled desire. “So if you’re Robin Hood, does that mean I’m Lady Marian?”

“I…uh…” Akechi’s cheeks were redder than ever before. On instinct, he brought his hands up to Akira’s chest to…push him away? Pull him closer? God this infernal heat was messing with him.

“Hmm?”

“You’re insufferable.”

Akechi wanted to wipe that smug look off his face. ~~And maybe kiss him senseless after.~~

A growl interrupted the tense moment, and sadly it came from neither of their throats. Their stomachs protested loudly between them, and it took every ounce of Akira’s self-control to take his hands off him. No use continuing on an empty stomach.

“I can make us some lunch if you want but,” Akira pointed down. Only then did Akechi realize how tightly his fingers dug into his grey shirt. “You’ll have to let me go first, darling.”

“Oh. Right, of c-course…”

Akira simple chuckled good naturedly and grabbed the two glasses on the desk before turning towards the stairs. The detective could leave it at that. He could have left…whatever _that_ was behind. But instead, he raised a tentative voice. “Do…”

Akira froze. Akechi immediately began to regret his decision, but the phantom thief was already half-turned in interest. The detective peered at him curiously.

“Do you treat all your friends like this?”

He smirked.

“Nope.”

And went downstairs first, leaving Akechi confused and the slightest bit turned on.

“Shit…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there are some errors. I kinda tried to do most of it on my one day off and the rest was in-between my two jobs. 
> 
> I wonder what the next chapter will have. Maybe some...kitchen fluff...?
> 
> "I feel something poking me."  
> "Uhhh."
> 
> XD just kidding...maybe.


	3. The Tables Have Turned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akechi is tired of being the only one flustered. It’s time to put his plan into action. 
> 
> More than one pointy object was used in the making of this curry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I wanted to put more in this chapter, but it just wasn't flowing the way I wanted it to. God how far am I going to take this fic lol. If there are errors...I'm too tired to fix them now. It's 2AM and I work in a couple hours. Sounds like college all over again XD
> 
> Give me more blushing Akira. I need more.

Akechi prided himself on reading people. He could tell if someone was lying by the slightest eye movement. He could call a bluff from a mile away. In short, he was the perfect detective. Not even Naoto Shirogane, the original Detective Prince, could match him in a game of wits. And oh how he utterly despised being compared to him. There was no way some kid from the countryside could outsmart him.

And yet here he was face to face with _another_ kid from the countryside that met him at every turn: Kurusu Akira.

Despite his criminal record, Akira was a model student. He was far ahead of his class and often received high marks on all his exams. The student body may still gossip, but Akira’s grades did more than shut them up when he walked in the room. Polite. Hardworking. Akechi saw the raven-haired boy working more than a handful of part-time jobs on the side with little to no complaint. He was the perfect role model.

Until he donned his Phantom guise, that is.

The moment the mask obscured his face, Akira disappeared and Joker took his place. Instead of the quiet and level-headed student, the Phantom Thief of Hearts was all confidence and cunning wrapped in black leather.

Akechi wouldn’t deny that destroying shadows gave him a wonderful rush of adrenaline. His blood boiled in delight every time he crushed a shadow beneath his heel. Crow, despite his princely attire, took pleasure in bringing justice to the evils in Mementos. It only seemed right to have mastery over light and darkness to cast judgment on his foes.

On the other hand, Joker had mastery over all manner of persona. If the party was lacking in one area, he could quickly fill it with the snap of his fingers. Considering his usual cool and calm demeanor, Akechi thought his fighting style would match. As usual, Akira greatly exceeded his expectations. The Phantom Thief’s methods could almost be considered merciless. If Crow was the judge, Joker was the executioner.

Inside, Loki yearned to be released every time he saw Joker slaughter Shadows. He yearned to join in the bloodbath and even threatened to tear Robin Hood’s guise apart on more than one occasion. As the days went on, it was getting harder and harder to hold Loki back.

Shadows stood a snowball’s chance in the firestorm Joker left behind. Gone was the gentle smile that Akechi…

“I love the attention, but you’re making me shy, darling.”

Akechi nearly jumped out of his seat. Akira could only chuckle at the sight as he continued chopping vegetables on the other side of the counter. The table was cluttered with ingredients such as onions, apples and honey. Just how many things were in Sojiro’s curry?

“That pet name again?” The detective rolled his eyes. “Less talking, more cooking, _honey_.”

The knife in Akira’s hand froze mid-cut.

 _Gotcha_.

Akechi had hoped the familiar nickname would catch the thief off guard, but instead it only seemed to encourage him. Akira recovered and finished cutting the carrots.

“Oh? Do you prefer honey? Sweetheart? Or maybe…” Akira began casually and ignored the warning look in the Akechi’s eyes. “Goro?”

“You’re infuriating…” Akechi grumbled under his breath, but he couldn’t stop the blush from creeping on his cheeks. For a moment he thought he was in the Metaverse. The wicked grin on Akira’s face could only belong to Joker. He set the knife down.

“Incorrigible, insufferable, infuriating…” Akira recounted and tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Still haven’t heard handsome yet.”

Akechi felt hit eye twitch in irritation. “I don’t know what’s more surprising: that you’re still single or that you haven’t been accused of harassment yet with your incessant teasing.”

Grief briefly flit across his face. It might be hard for some to see it past his dark bangs and thick rimmed glasses, but nothing went past Akechi. He saw the exact way Akira’s jaw hardened and his grey eyes darkened. He saw the way his shoulders grew stiff and his lips curved in the barest hint of a frown. But most of all, he saw just how _tired_ he looked. So worn and weary from months of ridicule and misjudgment. Akechi almost felt bad for the boy.

Almost.

Finally, Akira offered up a hollow smile. “I’ve already been accused of assault. Should I add harassment to my delinquent resume?”

“That was careless of me.” Akechi sighed fought hard to keep his expression neutral, or at the very least deflated. “I apologize.”

He couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit elated at the reminder that Akira wasn’t as infallible as he seemed. Akira had everything he didn’t. Hundreds of personas at his disposal. Friends who trusted him. A home that welcomed him. Akechi should feel over the moon that his greatest adversary could be taken down a peg just by mentioning his criminal record.

And yet…

“I’m still not used to having someone I can banter with like this.” Akechi admitted with a touch of astonished honesty. “It’s an entirely new experience.”

“A good experience, I hope.” Akira spoke softly. “But you know… If I’m really bothering you, I’ll stop. From the way you reacted I thought you liked it, but—“

“No, no it’s fine!” Akechi backtracked before he could think things through. It was unheard of for the detective to act on emotion instead of intellect. And yet here he was spitting sweet words to keep that grief-stricken look from ever reappearing on his face. Robin Hood and Loki clashed within him and Akechi once again wondered how Akira handled having more than ten persona at a time. Akechi was already going mad with two. “It’s actually a little refreshing.” Akira laughed a little and earned a withering glare from the detective. “What’s so funny?”

“Honesty is a good look on you,” Akira snickered even more when Akechi pouted. “I’m sure your fangirls haven’t even seen this side of you. How scandalous.”

“The way you put it makes it sound like _I’m_ the delinquent between us.”

Akira feigned insult. “Aren’t you? After all, I’m just a poor high school student living in an attic. My only roommate is a talking cat that forces me to go to sleep at 10pm.”

“Poor?” Akechi scoffed. “I know for a fact you have at least a million yen saved up from the Metaverse.” Akira had the gall to whistle innocently in response. “And if Morgana was truly adamant about your curfew, then how were you texting me at 2am?”

“If you must know…” Akira whispered and urged Akechi to come closer. Of course, this forced him to stand up from his seat to lean over the counter. Still, he played along to humor the thief. “I sneak just enough catnip in his dinner to knock him out at night.”

“Interesting. So catnip can still affect someone like Morgana,” Akechi pondered in amazement. Eventually his lips curved into a playful grin. “I’ll have to add that to the other blackmail I have on you. To think that the top student at Shujin would stoop to drugging his allies… What a bad role model.”

Akira was unfazed. In fact, he rose to the challenge. “You have no idea just how bad I can be.” His voice was dripping with intent, and it took every ounce of Akechi’s willpower not to tremble in delightful anticipation. The smug expression on his face was infuriating.

Enough was enough. He was tired of being played like a fiddle.

“Perhaps,” Akechi drawled and then reached up to grab the front of Akira’s apron. He pulled him in with a light jerk and brought their faces close. “But I intend on rectifying that.”

It brought on the exact response he was looking for. Akira visibly shivered and his eyes widened considerably, first in shock from the detective’s uncharacteristic boldness, and second in pure unabashed desire. The sharp breath he took was more than enough proof that he was just one step away from losing his composure.

“You are _really_ testing me right now.” Akira murmured almost pitifully. His voice was the texture of gravel. His hands were clenched tight against the counter, as if being forced to stay still against his will.

Akechi’s eyes shone with amusement when the thief seemed to be losing an internal battle. Akira’s obvious squirming helped him stifle his own embarrassment. Akechi silently thanked god LeBlanc was closed for the day. This was a scandal in the making indeed.

“Testing you?” Akechi hummed. “Well then, you better pass. I’d be very disappointed if you didn’t.”

Akira simply tilted his head to the side curiously, like a puppy would. He certainly didn’t expect this from the normally deflective detective. Akira’s lips were parted in silent awe despite the perfect opportunity to continue teasing the detective. Akechi clicked his tongue.

“Sweet words and a little honesty are all it takes to shut you up?” Akechi lips curved into a sly grin as he allowed himself a bit of self-indulgence. “You’re a surprisingly easy case.” He laced his voice with a daring amount of innuendo he didn’t know he possessed.

He knew Akira looked good in black, but red was a wonderful color on him, too.

His cheeks were flushed in a delightful shade of pink and sharply contrasted his fair skin and black hair. There was a rush about catching the raven haired boy off guard. Now Akechi knew why Akira loved to push and tease him. Seeing him vulnerable, even for a moment, made his blood boil in predatory bliss. He could do it. All he had to do was shift his hands up to Akira’s pale neck. He didn’t wear his gloves today. It would be easy to feel the exact moment his pulse would stop. 

Akechi’s fingers trembled lightly despite the violent thoughts raging in his head. It was as if his hands had a mind of their own. Rather than harm, his fingers wanted to _feel_. They wanted to take those damned fake glasses off. They wanted to card through his undoubtedly soft black hair. They wanted to pull him close so he could mash their lips together and—

Loki thrashed within him and brought him back to reality. Just as he felt Akira push forward to breach the distance between them, he let go of his apron and nonchalantly made his way around the counter.

“I think I’ll help you cook. At this rate we’ll both starve to death before the day is done, don’t you agree?”

“You. Are. Evil.” Akira punctuated each word with a growl. Akechi noticed that he subtly adjusted his apron in the front and slightly turned his hips away from him. The detective, feeling generous, spared him from more teasing and began making some rice.

“You have no idea.”


	4. Food for Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Phantom Thief of Hearts was selfless. After all, the his Persona was born from his desire to help those in need. He listened to everyone’s problems and offered his shoulder to lean on.
> 
> No one understood that he was still flesh and blood under the mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW, let me know in a comment if y’all want some NSFW action in this or keep it on the T-rating side of things. Occasionally I post teasers and notes of the next chapter on my [tumblr](http://escondig.tumblr.com/) account. Feel free to follow me there.  
> 

Despite how often Akechi visited Leblanc, he couldn’t remember ever sitting down in the booth. He always preferred the bar where he could be in and out in a matter of moments. In the first place, the only people he really conversed with were Sojiro and his charge. Yet here he was in a cushioned seat with a steaming plate of curry in front of him.

Truth be told, Akechi wasn’t a huge fan of curry. It rarely agreed with his sensitive stomach and he could never finish large portions at a time, but he couldn’t deny that the meal in front of him smelled divine. His mouth watered. It was then he realized he hadn’t really eaten anything today other than an apple for breakfast and the ice cream he brought. The spices perfectly mingled with the freshly brewed cup of coffee that Akira insisted on serving. He would have been perfectly content with another glass of water, but…

“I’ve served you coffee ever since you first walked through that door. I’m not about to break tradition.” Akira said straight-faced.

Akechi raised a brow and put a finger to his chin in amusement. “I suppose on some nights you moonlight as an older man? I can’t say the beard and cigarette smoke suit you.”

“Then I’ll be sure to shave for you and you alone,” Akira winked before taking off his green apron and joining him on the other side of the booth. He brought his cup of coffee to his lips before he paused to take his fogged glasses off in mild irritation. Akechi couldn’t help but finally ask.

“Why do you wear those? From my understanding they’re not even prescription.”

Akira blinked as if that was the last thing he expected the detective to notice. He cleaned the lenses with the hem of his shirt before setting it between them on the table. His grey eyes seemed to be struggling with putting the answer into words.

“It’s a bit of a boring story…”

“Joker telling a _boring_ story?” Akechi gasped. “I can scarcely imagine it!”

“Don’t make me revoke your coffee privileges.” Akira threatened without feeling.

“I never even knew I had those.”

“How cruel,” Akira sniffed and wiped invisible tears from his eyes. “I _always_ give your coffee a dash of love and a pinch of affection.”

“Y-You…” Akechi’s perfectly planned retort crumbled under the weight of Akira’s warm gaze. His cheeks felt incredibly hot as he babbled for an appropriate response. “I don’t know how you do it. Even if it’s for a joke, you can speak with such conviction. Are you simply incapable of embarrassment?”

“Who said it was a joke?” Akira countered with a wicked grin. Akechi quickly cut off his next sentence.

“If you make another pun about your code name I’m leaving.”

“You know me so well.” Akira laughed. The mischief in his eyes could only be rivaled by the warmth and adoration in his gaze. Akechi was at a loss as to how to react once again and responded in kind.

“To be honest, I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think I’ve only scratched the surface of Kurusu Akira. And…forgive if me my intuition is wrong but,” Akechi folded his arms. “You play the role of the selfless listener, but I can’t help but think it’s a ruse to keep others off your tail. From what I gather, I doubt your friends know about your previous life beyond the night of your arrest.” Akira stiffened and Akechi continued his ~~interrogation~~ questioning. “I won’t force you to confess, but I find it a little unfair that you know bits and pieces of my past while I know none of yours.”

“I’m not really used to talking about what happened before.” Akira began uncomfortably, but he didn’t exactly refuse. Akechi stayed dutifully silent while the curly haired barista took a steadying breath. “Before I came to Tokyo, I used to live in Inaba. It’s a quiet town and boring to be honest. It was so small that everyone knew each other.”

As he continued reminiscing, his shoulders began to relax and his voice sounded less tense by the second. All of his earlier confident swagger disappeared, and in its place sat a quiet teen that looked like he’d rather read a book than raid a palace.

“I used to be so scared of my neighbor.” Akira hummed upon remembering something and stared appraisingly at Akechi. “I think he was a detective, too.”

“It seems fate refuses to let you escape the law.” Akechi mused. “I can only imagine what trouble you got yourself in.”

The thief cringed at a particular memory. “Don’t remind me. It looked like he wanted to polish his handgun every time I played with his daughter.”

“Now I see how thievery became second nature. It sounds like you stole hearts in your youth as well.”

“If I did I would have been thrown in jail earlier.” Akira sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I probably have to thank my mum for saving me on more than one occasion.”

Akechi would never call himself empathetic, but he couldn’t help but feel a sharp ache in this chest when Akira spoke in past tense. Just how much was he shouldering? How much would he continue to carry without complaint?

Why was he confessing to Akechi of all people?

A cold stab of envy invaded his chest. In the deepest parts of his heart, Akechi had hoped that Akira had a hellish childhood. He hoped someone had it as bad as he had. Prayed that someone, _anyone_ , could understand the hardships he endured to get to where he was today.

 _You deserved it. You were given everything on a silver platter_ , Akechi thought venomously as he bit back the harsh string of words that he caged in his throat. _You preach justice, but you’ve never seen the true face of corruption like I have_.

“You must miss it…”

It was a weak attempt at sympathy, and Akechi cringed at his transparency. This time he couldn’t blame the heat for his blunder. In fact, the temperature had cooled down significantly as the afternoon dragged on. From his peripheral vision he could see through the glass windows. The normally cerise skies were blanketed with grey clouds—a sign of rain.

He’d have to leave soon, lest he get caught in the downpour.

“I thought I would. I thought I’d miss biking along the flood plain or hanging out on the hill.” Akira set his cup down with a loud clatter as his grey eyes hardened into cold steel. The nostalgic warmth drained from his face in a matter of seconds. “But when your own father decides his reputation is worth more than his own son, you start to rethink things.”

The way Akira practically spat at the mention of his father was new. Refreshingly so.

“What?”

“Ever heard of the string of murders in Inaba? It took a while for the stigma to leave town. The shopping district nearly closed and my neighbors nearly died in the incident.” Akira folded his hands together as his bangs covered his face. “It took a while, but the town finally got back on its feet. The shopping district came alive again and the media stopped dragging the Inaba through the mud. So imagine everyone’s surprise when rows of cops came down on a kid in the middle of the night.”

“Inaba couldn’t afford another scandal.” Akechi finished for him. His eyes widened. “You were driven out?” He assumed it was a personal choice to leave, but all the signs pointed at the opposite.

Akira laughed bitterly. “I guess kicking one kid out of town was better than pissing off some high-ranking politician.”

They fought monsters every day in the Metaverse. The shadows of the human heart no longer weighed heavily on Akira’s consciousness. The injuries were physical and all wounds heal over time.

But the demons Akira battled were a different beast altogether. They would bite and claw at him long after he was safe and sound in his attic. Even Morgana didn’t understand what drove the whimpers and cries from his throat at night. He couldn't fathom how the faces that haunted Akira's dreams were the very humans he risked his life to save.

“It seems we’re more alike than I originally thought.” Akechi spoke softly. “Your mother didn’t try sheltering you?”

“She couldn’t. Not on a piano tutor’s salary.” he smiled wryly. “And I couldn’t do that to her. She’s been through enough. I’m just grateful that Sojiro was willing to take in a kid with a record, although mum did her fair share of arguing.”

Despite his burning curiosity, Akechi did not ask about his father’s role in this. Why would he? None of this information was needed to carry out his plans. He didn’t need to hear about the steaks at the Junes food court, or the fox that hung out at Tatsuhime Shrine, or how he missed skipping rocks along the Samegawa River. He didn’t need to hear how his glasses once belonged to his mother and that he swapped the glass out so that he could wear them.

“I suppose you’re not as infallible as I thought.”

“Sorry to disappoint, honey.”

“Don’t be. It’s actually quite refreshing. Your unshakeable charade was infuriating.” Akechi admitted. He chuckled fondly at Akira’s dumbfounded expression and parroted the thief’s earlier quip. “Honesty is a good look on you.”

“I knew you’d fall for my charm eventually.”

“And the trickster returns.” Akechi sighed dramatically. “Is there no end to your mischief?

Akira crossed his arms and thought for a moment before his lips curved into a smug grin. “I can go all night if you’d like.” As the words fell from his lips he appraised the detective. The challenge was obvious and his cocky smirk only served to fan the flames of rivalry even more.

"You're incorrigible..."

The heat in Akira’s gaze unsettled him. He greatly enjoyed their banters and, despite the suggestive nature behind most of Akira’s teasing, he couldn’t help but commit to their deadly game of cat and mouse.

The pain and grief was still there in his grey eyes. Now that he knew where to look, Akechi couldn’t fathom how no one ever noticed. His playful nature acted as a greater mask than the one he donned in Mementos.

He thought their complex dichotomy could only thrive in novels: detective and thief dancing on the line of enemies and something more—something so carnal that he dared not give it a name.

The curry was cold by the time Akechi finally took a bite, but it was one of the most delicious things he’d ever eaten.

* * *

 _He’s quiet._ Akira thought as they cleaned up the kitchen. As perceptive as ever, he studied the detective throughout their meal. Akechi seemed to completely stiffen after eating his first spoonful of curry. His expression was unreadable. After a while he continued eating without comment. 

After the meal the detective was adamant on helping out despite Akira insisting he relax. Not taking no for an answer, Akechi quickly grabbed the used pots and plates and finished washing them. It was a jarring site to behold. Akira was used to how Akechi detached himself from the world. He was an observer from the outside looking in. Yet here he was furiously scrubbing at a pot stain that Akira knew would never come out. He slipped in behind him to let him know, but he paused to look at a certain detail. 

His ponytail was beginning to come loose. Bits and strands unraveled from the bright red tie that held it all together. Akira's hand unconsciously moved to tuck his chestnut hair behind his ear. The detective flinched at the precise moment of contact, but didn't move any more than that. At most he craned his neck to look behind him.

"Something wrong?"

"Nope." Akira answered. His hand ghosted over Akechi's skin before it settled under the hard ridge of his jaw. His other hand hesitantly settled on Akechi's hip and gently turned him. The more rational side of him begged him to back away. It wasn't worth losing him over some fruitless attraction. And yet Joker's influence urged him to step close into the detective's space. Spurred him to pull him into his chest and keep him until morning.

A thief never let his treasure go.

Despite the curious expression on the detective's face, Akira could see how the tips of his ears turned red.

"You have a strange penchant for causing mischief." Akechi said, and Akira thoroughly enjoyed how ragged his voice was. Outside, the rain beat rhythmically against the glass windows. "Sounds like a storm."

Akira leaned in closer. “Doesn’t look like it’ll stop any time soon.”

One inch. Two inches. The thief could feel the barest whisper of Akechi's breath on his lips, but a gentle push on his chest stopped him.

“I should go.”

Akira blinked in surprise and the spell was broken. Akechi's hands were cold and wet on his shirt, still dripping with water from the sink. Akira gestured to the window. “It’s pouring outside! You want to go _now_?”

The detective simply smiled good-naturedly, but the forceful shove against Akira's chest spoke volumes. He quickly brushed past him and made a beeline to pull his shoes on. “Better to brave the weather now while the trains are still running.”

Something was wrong. He was using that smile again—the one he used to hide his true intentions. Akechi threw the door open while Akira was distracted, but the thief’s reflexes were sharp.

Akira grabbed him by the wrist just as the rain sprayed half of Akechi’s white button down shirt. The red elastic band that held his hair came loose and was washed away by the current. 

“Wha…Kurusu-kun?”

“Stay.” Akira whispered.

At first he thought the rain drowned out his desperate plea because all Akechi did was stare. A thousand emotions could have swam in his crimson irises, but all Akira could see was his distressed reflection in his eyes.  

“Just until the rain stops.” He added. Akechi was tense beneath his skin. It felt like he was prepared to run, but Akira couldn’t grasp why. Did he say too much? Did he push too hard?

Couldn’t Akira be weak for once in his life?

“Okay…”

The detective’s quiet voice cut through the deafening rainstorm.

“Just until the rain stops.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun facts: Yes, Akira’s neighbors were the Dojima’s. Assuming Persona 4 happened in 2011, Akira was about eleven at the time of the Midnight Channel Murders. 
> 
> Sorry if the ending seemed rushed. I've rewritten this chapter so many times and I just want to move on to the next chapter. Now I really gotta rewrite my story summary to accommodate how serious the story got. God damn this was only supposed to be fluffy. 
> 
> Next chapter will have some cuddling.


	5. Downpour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Akira invited Akechi over, the last thing he expected was to watch him put on his clothes, let alone lay beside him in his bed. But here they were, two fools in the corner of a dusty attic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a little longer. I think I bit off more than I could chew with this chapter. To be honest, I hate how I ended it, but I've gone through way too many drafts. Welp, can't love everything. 
> 
> Also, I realized I messed up the timeline a bit… I forgot that Akechi joins 10/29, which is already Fall rather than Summer… Oh well. 
> 
> I’d say this fic is almost done. Maybe a chapter or two left and then I’ll open it up to its sequel: _Stolen Time_.
> 
> Trigger Warning: suggested themes of abuse (But not in explicit detail)
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://escondig.tumblr.com/) if you want! Sometimes I post teasers and snippets of chapters I'm working on.

Of all the ways Akira thought today would go, this was the last of them. He would only dare to imagine Akechi looking so lost and vulnerable in the middle of Leblanc. The detective didn’t even seem to care that his normally put-together appearance was shattered, and in its place was some teenage boy looking like a drenched cat.

“Let’s get you out of that before you catch a cold,” said Akira as he firmly tugged Akechi’s wrist. He followed obediently, but his eyes remained locked to the floor.

Akira didn’t like this Akechi. There was no hint of the boyish teen who secretly put three sugar cubes in his coffee, or who put extra honey on his pancakes, or whose eyes lit up at the slightest praise. There was no sign of the witty crow that could match him at every turn.

If the laws of fiction held here, then there was one truth behind their dual identities: every thief needed a detective to chase him.

A feeling of dread filled Akira. It crept in the back of his mind and continued to fester the further they dove into Sae’s palace. No matter how many contingency plans the Phantom Thieves put into place, no matter how many personas he fused, and no matter how much he wanted to pray for a different outcome, the cards would fall all the same. Akechi was running from something and Akira just couldn’t figure out what.

If this kept up, this thief wouldn’t have a treasure to steal in the end.

* * *

“Sit.”

It was less a suggestion and more of an order. Nevertheless, Akechi obeyed and sat on edge of the bed. Akechi mused that it reminded him of their trips to the Metaverse. Akira’s voice seemed to drop an octave whenever he donned his Phantom mask.

Akira haphazardly tossed him a white shirt in his direction. It was a little big, even for Akira, but most of his other clothes were due for a trip to the Laundromat. The detective held up the shirt and raised an unimpressed brow at the large black stars printed across the soft fabric. After a moment, Akechi slowly unbuttoned his white shirt and shrugged it off. It lay forgotten on the floor while his wet undershirt remained.

“You sound upset.” Akechi piped with false cheer. It was a hollow imitation of their lively banter, which only added to the thief’s growing annoyance.

“I’m gonna take a page out of Ryuji’s book,” he set his glasses on the desk with a loud clatter. “No shit, Sherlock.” Akira turned away and peeled his own wet shirt off. While he wasn’t as drenched as the detective, he wasn’t a fan of sitting around in damp clothes. When he caught Akechi’s affronted gaze he sighed heavily. “I _am_ upset.”

“Why?”

_Because you’re a coward. Because you’re running from something. Because all you need to do is ask me to help you and I will._

“I don’t know.” The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but it was better than Akechi learning the truth. Akira was no idiot. When— _If_ the time came, he couldn’t afford to choose the Phantom Thieves over the detective. He wouldn’t let his desires, no matter how distorted or desperate, affect their mission.

 _You change the heart of criminals_ , a dark part of him taunted. In his mind’s eye he could see a pair of familiar gold eyes staring back at him through the shadows of the attic. _And yet you refuse to steal the one heart you crave?_ It did not belong to Joker, or Arsene, or any of his other personas.   _You truly are a fool._

 _Begone_ , Akira furrowed his brows in frustration and angrily threw his wet shirt on the couch. Behind him he could hear Akechi hum in intrigued amusement.

“And here I thought the only things that rattled you were overpriced equipment and corrupt adults.”

“For one,” Akira countered briskly and turned to face the detective again. “You’d be surprised at how much personas cost. And two: undershirt off or I’ll take it off myself.”

“Is that an order, _leader_?” Akechi drawled lazily and leaned back on his palms on the bed. Despite his relaxed posture, his eyes glinted daringly. For all his earlier anger and irritation, Akira couldn’t help but appreciate the ways his damp shirt clung to his slight, but toned frame. He didn’t dare overthink the way Akechi’s eyes drank in the sight of his still-bare chest before settling keenly on his face.

 _Focus_ , Arsene chided.

 _Go for it_ , Joker encouraged.

“A promise,” Akira answered smoothly and quickly pulled on a spare black shirt. The thief stood imposingly in front of him with his arms crossed and looking every bit like Makoto. Akechi sighed and reluctantly pulled his undershirt over his head. Akira’s breath hitched.

He wished it was for all the right reasons.

A long faint scar traveled across his chest from his naval to his ribs. It was an old, old wound that healed raw and ugly—a stark contrast to his flawless demeanor. Akira shuddered at how the fresh wound must have looked. There was also a thicker scar along his right bicep. He no longer wondered why Akechi preferred longer sleeved shirts even if he had to suffer in the heat. Akira had his fair share of scars that a Diarama just couldn’t fix, but some of these wounds looked far too old to be Metaverse or work related.  

“Disgusting, aren’t they?” Akechi’s melodic voice tore Akira’s gaze off the scars. Akira said nothing. The chestnut haired boy grinned cheerfully and pulled the oversized shirt on. Akira briefly caught even more faint lines at the peaks of his back. “They’re a fierce reminder.”

“Of?”

“My justice.” Akechi’s eyes hardened into ice that could rival Niflheim’s wrath. “So you’ll forgive me if I have to remind you where we stand, Joker.”

All of a sudden Akechi felt a heavy fabric fall on his head. Akira gently rubbed a towel through his hair. He lightly wrung the tips of his chestnut locks and rubbed soothing circles into his scalp. The tension in Akechi’s shoulders gradually disappeared until he unconsciously leaned into his touch.

“Where _do_ we stand, Crow?” Akira asked. The anger was gone from his voice and in its place was genuine curiosity. “Friends? Teammates? Rivals?” Akira gently guided Akechi’s face up and bent down to eye level. The detective expected to meet with Akira’s warm and inviting gaze, but instead he was met with Joker’s roguish grin. His grey eyes sparkled with mischief behind his dark fringe. “Friends with benefits?”

A lovely shade of crimson washed over his cheeks. “I can’t imagine what ‘benefits’ you could offer me.”

“Three meals a day, free coffee refills and naptime.”

“Charming.” he rolled his eyes as the sarcasm rolled off him in waves. Once his hair was sufficiently dry (and adorably mussed), Akira tossed the towel on his chair and sat down on the bed. His knees playfully knocked against Akechi’s.

“Lovers, then?” Despite the melodic lilt in his voice, Akira’s eyes were tender and soft. Akechi could scarcely remember the last time someone looked at him that way—like he held the secret to life in his hands.

“Very funny.”

“Ah, my heart,” Akira gasped and clutched painfully at his chest. “Shot down in its prime. Can’t…go on…” he fell back onto the bed with his arms splayed in dramatic flourish. His eyes were closed in feigned death and Akechi couldn’t help but laugh at his theatrics.

“Your heart may be failing you, but your horrible sense of humor seems to be intact. Shame.” He shook his head in mild disappointment. “I feel like I already know the answer, but is this going to be a common theme between us?”

The thief reopened his eyes only to smirk devilishly back at him. “For you? Always.” Akechi blinked before grimacing and hunching in on himself with a pained grunt. Akira sat up quickly with a frantic and concerned look in his eyes. “Akechi?”

“It hurts,” Akechi groaned and fell back on the bed before curling up slightly. The detective then reopened his eyes to shoot the thief an impish wink. “I fear I’m suffering from a case of hopeless romantic.”

“You asshole,” Akira playfully smacked him on the arm before lying back down beside him. Both of them stared at the ceiling in silence. Thunder shook the air with a resounding shudder, but it was oddly calming. The rain pelted the foggy glass windows in a disjointed staccato.

“You know…” Akechi broke the silence first. His eyes seemed to search for something in the ceiling shadows. “I never pegged you as an interior decorator.”

“If you think this is a lot imagine Futaba’s room. I’d have two more shelves worth of figurines if Sojiro didn’t talk her out of it.” Akira chuckled and took a moment to look at everything he’s collected so far. His shelves were full of knick knacks from all over: a poster from Ann, a ramen bowl from Ryuji and a T-shirt from Futaba. “Something catch your eye?”

“The stars look rather nice,” Akechi admitted slowly. “I’ve…never really thought about decorating my room before.”

“Really?” Akira grinned and turned on his side to face the chestnut haired boy in his bed. “I thought your room was full of newspaper clippings and strings. You know, like all those detective shows on TV. My face is probably on the wall somewhere with darts all over it.”

“Why use a picture when I have the real thing right here?” Akechi laughed. It was short. Bitter, almost. “But no, I’m afraid not. My apartment is just the bare minimum. A futon, a table and a dresser. Well, unless you count all my paperwork as ‘decoration’.” The detective turned away from the starry rafters and faced Akira. “It’s all I’ve ever known, really.”

His shirt shifted from the movement. The large collar slid down, revealing more of Akechi’s skin. When he first met the detective, he seemed too perfect. Too artificial. Truth be told, Akira despised how obviously fake Akechi appeared on TV. It only felt appropriate to fight falsities with falsities. His playful flirting was only supposed to be a way to pass the time. How could he call himself a Gentleman Thief if he couldn’t throw an Ace Detective off his trail?

Some thief he turned out to be. Who was the one stealing hearts here?

Now that he was this close, Akira could see a spattering of freckles dotted on the smooth landscape. He had the sudden urge to draw constellations on his skin and paint dark galaxies with his lips.

In fact, he dared to tentatively reach out and brush against a small birthmark at the very edge of his collarbone. Akechi flinched for a second but didn’t move away. Rather than disgust, his eyes were filled with tentative wonder. Feeling a little more confident, Akira traced a line from his collarbone to another small mole on his neck. He followed a path of stars until he reached his pulse point. Akechi watched Akira throughout the whole motion with and exhaled slowly.

“What are you doing?” He finally asked. His voice was rough and barely above a whisper.

“Studying.”

“I’m not exactly a textbook, Kurusu.”

“With all the philosophy you quote? Could have fooled me,” Akira gazed at him tenderly. After a moment, he gently settled his hand on the smooth juncture between his neck and shoulder. “I want to remember you like this.”

“In your bed wearing your clothes?” Akechi raised a questioning brow. “You’re more perverse than I thought.”

“I’m trying to be pure here and you’re trampling on my efforts.” The look on his face could only be described as a childish pout. “Although I won’t deny that I won’t be forgetting this image either…” The hand that rested on his shoulder smoothly slid down. Akechi felt every rough callous on Akira’s fingers as it trailed down the length of his bare arm before settling on his waist. He fought the ticklish sensation that threatened to blossom on his lips and instead tried to glare accusingly at him.

“What did I say about keeping me out of your wanton desires?”

Akira’s laugh was low and husky and forced a shiver down Akechi’s spine. The detective vaguely wondered if he could hear the painful drumming of his heart. “I don’t see you moving away.”

“I…You…” Akechi sputtered. The moment he tried to break out of Akira’s ~~admittedly comfortable~~ grasp, the thief pulled him closer. The detective’s hands were tightly trapped against Akira’s chest. “Stop that!”

“Nope~,” Akira sang and laughed whilst the detective tried in vain to escape his arms. To his credit, he wasn’t using that much force to keep the detective in his hold.

Akechi eventually stopped thrashing and grudgingly accepted his newest predicament. He tried to look at everything else but Akira, but it was hard when the thief was but a breath away. “…You’re not going to ask?”

“About?”

Akechi huffed in frustration and his hands fisted the soft material of Akira’s shirt. “The scars. The evasion. _Anything_?”

“Would you even tell me if I asked?” Akira asked. The detective managed to kick him hard enough to illicit a pained grunt. The thief winced and quickly back peddled. “Hear me out first, okay? I _want_ to know more about you. I want to know what you like, what you hate, and whatever you’ve been through up until this moment.” Akira tenderly brushed stray strands of hair from Akechi’s face. “Scars won’t tell me that.”

“If thievery doesn’t work out, perhaps you should turn to writing. You definitely have the silver tongue for it,” Akechi grumbled. He fought against the contented sigh that threatened to escape him, but Akira’s gentle ministrations were making it difficult. “You like to know a lot about your friends, don’t you?”

A loaded question if he ever heard one. Even Ryuji would be able to feel the underlying meaning behind it.

“I kind of hoped that I wouldn’t have to say this, but I thought it was obvious that I don’t just see you as a friend, detective-san.” Akira’s voice was filled with equal parts exasperation and mirth. 

“And how much are you willing to know about someone that’s not your friend?”

 _Now he's just being stubborn_ , Akira thought. 

“Let’s just say,” he purred. Joker’s trademark smirk curved on his lips. “If it were up to me, we wouldn’t see the light outside this attic until I was well acquainted with _all of you_.” His voice sent delightful shivers of pleasure throughout Akechi’s body. The detective fought against the powerful urge to accept the tempting offer.

“H-How can you say that with a straight face?” he babbled as his cheeks flushed bright red and his breaths came out in quick succession. Now Akechi couldn’t help but focus on the thief’s lips. His mind scrambled for all the reasons he shouldn’t find them enticing but he came up empty.

“I don’t know if I can get you in my bed again, so I have to pull out all the stops now.” Akira answered honestly.

“You are insatiable.”

“Can’t be called insatiable until I actually have a taste.”

Despite the bold suggestion, Akechi didn’t miss the way Akira looked a little hopeful. His cheeks were slightly pink in anticipation. Akechi bit his bottom lip and asked the question that’s been on his mind the moment he walked through the door. “What’s stopping you?”

Akira looked as if he had another witty retort, but his brows scrunched together in hesitation. After a beat, he sighed and shifted forward. Akechi could barely feel the warmth of his lips press against his forehead. His eyes fluttered closed at the soft sensation. How could someone so infuriating have the power to calm him down with a simple touch?

“I know what I want,” Akira spoke carefully. Akechi never heard him sound so uncertain before. “But I don’t know what _you_ want.”

“…Why do you insist on this? On _us_?” If he had free range of his hands no doubt he would be gesturing wildly between the two of them. “The Phantom Thieves will disband after Sae’s palace. I doubt our paths will cross again after this. So why? Why do you...” He didn't know how to finish the sentence. 

Akira wasn't blind. The past couple hours cemented his greatest hope and fear: that some part of Akechi wanted him in some sort of way, be it physically, emotionally, or romantically. That maybe, just maybe he could cling onto the hope that they wouldn't stand on opposite sides of the battlefield. That perhaps one day he could show him just how brightly the stars shone in Inaba. That left the million yen question in the air. 

Could Joker—could Akira risk everything for the one thing he desired?

“If there’s really such a thing as fate,” Akira murmured softly. The detective was reminded of how often their paths crossed before the black haired teen became his prime suspect. “Then maybe there’s a future for us at the end of all this."

Akechi froze and buried his face in the hollow of Akira’s chest. Instinctively, Akira held him closer and cradled the back of his head. His fingers gently carded through his silky locks, still a little damp from the rain.

“I used to make blanket forts,” Akechi finally spoke up. His voice was unsteady, uncertain and trembled far too much for his liking. “with my mother. Sometimes I made tents out her dresses. She home schooled me, so our lessons often ended with us playing pretend until morning came.” He brought his knees up as if he wanted to curl up in a ball, but it only served to tangle their legs together. “Whenever a…bad client came over we’d make a huge fort and just...talk. It happened a lot; especially as I grew older and she had to take more clients to pay rent and such.”

A mixture of anger and nausea swirled in his gut as the memories resurfaced. He remembered how his mother came home late, sometimes riddled with bruises and smelling of cheap booze. He found it odd since she never drank alcohol. He remembered her shying away from his touch after coming home from 'work' and crying when she thought he was fast asleep. He remembered how she refused to answer any questions about his father.

Those were the only times she yelled at him. But not once did she hit him.

He wanted to stop talking. He wanted to leave Leblanc and never return. He had half a mind to complete Sae’s palace alone and put a bullet in her shadow's head. He could do it easily. Hell, he could have killed the Phantom Thieves back in Madarame’s Palace.

Why didn’t he?

“I wanted to catch the bad guys. Lock them up so no one could hurt her anymore,” Akechi laughed softly. He hated how his eyes began to burn with fresh tears. He hated how his mask cracked at the edges. “Who knew my justice would become so twisted in the end? She must be so proud… Rolling in the grave I imagine.”

Akira tucked Akechi’s head under his chin protectively. It was as if that he could drown out whatever painful memories Akechi chose to share. Once again the detective relaxed under his touch, although he still held Akira’s shirt in a vice grip. This time he didn't fight the contented sigh that left his lips. “I can’t speak for your mom but,” he began carefully. “I’m sure she would be happy to see you alive and well, regardless of the circumstances.”

Akechi scoffed. If only Akira knew his circumstances.

“I mean it, Goro.” With great reluctance, Akira pulled away so he could stare at him. Akechi’s eyes looked red and misty from unshed tears, but his lips were swollen from how hard he bit them. They quivered in adamant refusal. It was bad enough that he loosened the chains around his past. He wouldn’t let Akira see his tears, too. “I won’t say some cliché lie to make you feel better, but I won’t let you disregard your feelings either. I know that you’ve worked hard to get to where you are today. Who cares if you made mistakes?” Akira brushed away a stubborn tear that escaped Akechi’s notice. “Just make up for it now.”

“…Are you going to call me by my first name every time you get disgustingly sentimental?”

“I say all that and that’s what you focus on?” Akira laughed. “Would you rather I say it without being cheesy?"

Akechi glared and finally turned his back towards Akira. In doing so, he missed the crestfallen expression on his face, but true to form Akira offered no complaint. As the thief began retracting his arms, Akechi hesitantly held his wrist in place by his hip.

“Only when we’re alone, agreed?”

Akechi didn’t have to turn to know just how Akira’s expression brightened at the prospect. “Goro,” he tested slowly and watched for a reaction. “Goro. Goro.”

“I changed my mind.” Akechi immediately shot up. The sudden movement caused Akira to release his hold. The detective buried his head in his hands and let out a low groan. When Akira sat up he could barely see the tips of Akechi’s ears turn red. The thief couldn't suppress the wide grin from stretching across his lips. 

“Hey,” Akira murmured and smoothly slid his hand over Akechi’s before giving it a fond squeeze. “Blanket fort?”

After a moment of silence, Akechi squeezed back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many of you hate me for withholding a kiss between these two?
> 
> Finally finished with chapter 5, errors be damned. I know the game implies that Akechi's mom committed suicide, but I have a different headcanon in mind... Let me live. This boy needs more love, although in this case I'm being kind to be cruel. *whistles innocently*
> 
>  
> 
> **BLOOPERS:**  
>  “Your heart may be failing you, but your horrible sense of humor seems to be intact. Shame.” He shook his head in mild disappointment. “I feel like I already know the answer, but are your corny attempts at flirting going to be a constant thing between us?”
> 
> “I do enjoy the idea of ‘us,’” Akira replied with a sly grin on his face. “What sounds better? Akeshu? I prefer a good Shuake myself.”
> 
> "Ake... Shuake? What?" 
> 
> "I'll tell you one day," Akira spoke sagely and put a comforting hand on Akechi's shoulder. "You're far too pure to find out right now."
> 
> Understanding slowly dawned on him as a raging blush spread from his neck to his face. “Futaba corrupted you.”


	6. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was hardly a blanket fort. The mattress was lumpy, he barely had any pillows, and the blanket above them made it feel more like a tent than anything else. In short, it was one of the most pathetic excuses for a fort he's ever seen. 
> 
> But for the first time, Akechi felt like he could just forget for a little while. There were no Phantom Thieves. No corrupt politicians. Just two boys laying on a bed too narrow for the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'm not happy with how this chapter turned out. But to be honest I want to focus more of my attention on finishing this one so I can really work on developing their relationship later (not to mention my two jobs are being a bit more demanding lately).

“You did _what_?” Akechi laughed. His cheeks ached from how wide his incredulous grin was as Akira recounted another tale. The thief’s laughter wasn’t too far off as he hushed the detective beside him. He looked side to side in feigned panic.

“Do you want the whole neighborhood to know?”

Akechi rolled his eyes. “No one is here except us and I doubt anyone outside can hear us—especially at this hour.”

“Sounds like a tempting scenario.” The thief waggled his brows playfully. “You. Me. Alone. In bed. Although too many clothes for my ta—”Before he could tack on more, Akira was silenced by a swift pillow to the face. The blanket walls surrounding them rustled with the movement.

They managed to drape a long heavy curtain across the rafters. The glowing stars were still visible even under their crudely made blanket fort. Well, it was less a fort and more of a tent with the way the curtain angled downwards. The back of the couch acted as one wall while the window acted as another.

Akira pulled his desk up against the foot of his bed, where his laptop played random videos in the background. Akechi was used to lower hanging forts made with stacked boxes and furniture for walls, but he wasn’t too keen on lying on the hard attic floor. Akira didn’t own nearly enough pillows to cushion them both.

“Okay, your turn.” Akira nudged Akechi’s shoulder as they laid side-by-side. “What secrets are you hiding, detective?

Akechi hummed thoughtfully. “I had one awkward encounter last year. It was your typical stalker case for a popular idol, Kanami Mashita. An open-and-shut case.”

“Kanamin?” Akira asked and sat up excitedly. His eyes sparkled in the dim light. As if realizing his over-eager reaction he coughed. “I’m more a Risette fan, but she’s pretty good, too.” Akechi could help but laugh at his poor cover up. There was no use hiding the fact Akira was a bit of a fan boy. The huge poster and CDs stacked on his desk were a dead giveaway.

“I think I still have her contact information in my files, somewhere…” Akechi said off-handedly. He felt the boy beside him tense up for a brief moment, but he quickly recovered. Damn.

“Abusing your resources, detective?”

“In my defense, I don't think Mashita-san would let me forget her info even if I tried,” He countered and shivered unpleasantly at the memory. “Let’s just say I became much more…acquainted with her than I intended. Uncomfortably so.”

“Sounds scandalous,” Akira voice seemed to drop down an octave. A dangerous curiosity loomed underneath. “What did she make you do, anyway?”

“She believed that having a fake lover would bring her stalker out of hiding. On the surface, some staged dates and gossip columns were all it took to catch the culprit. In reality?” Akechi pinched the bridge of his nose. “I could have done without the all the inappropriate touching.”

“Shame…”

“What is?”

Akira shifted and smoothly swung one leg over Akechi’s body with each of his hands planted at either side of the Akechi’s face. He stared down at the detective trapped beneath him with a predatory smirk on his lips. “I was hoping that _I’d_ be your first.” His voice was low and held every ounce of heat in his repertoire. Akechi swallowed thickly and tried to look away from the hunger in Akira’s gaze.

“First you steal my targets, and now you’re interested in stealing my firsts?” Akechi intended it to be a joke, but he could hardly believe the ragged voice that escaped him was his. “A thief to the bitter end.”

“It’s only stealing if you don’t want me to.” Akira countered huskily. His grey eyes sparkled with untold mischief. “Your move, detective.”

Akechi felt his competitive blood boil. He swiftly grabbed him by the shoulder and tugged before using the momentum to roll on top. The thief couldn’t help but let out a cry of alarm from the sudden motion. The sheets shifted around them and threatened to crash down, but eventually settled down. The detective released a breathless chuckle at Akira’s flabbergasted expression as he pinned his wrists above his head. He got a rush from the red flush on the thief’s cheeks. “You'll have to work a lot harder than that to steal anything from me, Joker.”

“I never expected you to have claws in bed,” Despite his predicament, Akira had the gall to smirk and spoke amorously. “Anything else I need to know for future reference?”

“I thought you gave up getting me back in your bed after tonight.”

“No blushing? Not even a stutter?” Akira pouted. “You’re no fun.” 

“I’ve been a victim of your teasing long enough to be used to it.” Akechi countered and released his grip on Akira’s wrists.

“Teasing?” With his arms free, Akira propped himself up by his elbows. “I’ve been nothing but honest with you all day.” The detective finally took note of their position: with Akechi knees tucked intimately under Akira’s thighs. Akira's shirt rode up slightly, revealing a flat stomach and the barest peek of pale skin. To make matters worse, the thief looked perfectly content underneath the detective. The downright roguish grin never left his face. Akechi felt his heart thrum wildly in his chest.

“I—” Akechi’s words were cut short by a repetitive buzzing noise at the foot of the bed. The two turned their gaze to the source of the sound, Akechi’s phone, as the screen flashed incessantly. Immediately he rolled away and plucked his device off the desk. Instead of answering, he flicked his phone on silent and stared hollowly at his phone cradled in his hands. Eventually the buzzing stopped.

“Work?” Akira asked.

A brief pause. A sigh. And finally a smile. “Work.” he answered cheerily. Akira frowned. “Paperwork won’t do itself. Besides, I think I’ve given you enough attention for the day.”

Akira groaned rolled facedown onto the pillow. “Let me wallow in misery for ten more minutes.” Akechi merely chuckled and crawled back next to Akira. Hesitantly, he reached out and carded his fingers through Akira’s black tresses. It was an affectionate and uncharacteristic move for the detective, and for a brief moment he thought it might have been awkward. However, Akira’s small mewl of contentment eased his reservations.

“…The rain stopped a while ago.” Akechi said as he continued to draw idle circles on Akira’s scalp. The black haired boy mumbled an unintelligible protest into the pillow. The detective smiled ruefully even though he knew the other boy couldn’t see it. “I can’t stay here forever.”

After a beat, Akira turned to stare up at Akechi with a petulant frown on his face. “One more cup of coffee?”

“Are you bribing me?”

“Depends. Is it working?”

* * *

He _really_ had to leave. His phone was already riddled with five more missed calls, three texts, and at least eight emails. Judging by how at least two of those calls were from an unknown number, he would have _a lot_ of explaining to do later.

 _Why am I risking years of work for a cup of coffee?_ Akechi inwardly groaned and ran a stressed hand through his chestnut hair. His still-damp clothes sat in a bag on the chair beside him. He shut his eyes as he ran through the possible excuses that would explain his absence. Akira remained blissfully silent and only focused on preparing the grinds.

When Akechi reopened his eyes, he noticed that the barista wasn’t using his usual equipment. Instead, he was using one of the more sophisticated devices at the end of the counter. Rather than a coffee maker, it looked more like a chemistry set.

“Sojiro recently taught me how to use it,” Akira answered his unspoken question as Akechi watched the coffee almost magically transfer from the top glass to the bottom one. “I personally like using the french press, but the siphon makes for a good show.” Once complete, he poured a fresh cup for both of them. Akechi didn’t know whether or not to feel thankful or offended when Akira slid a container of sugar cubes and cream in his direction.

“A flower shop clerk, cook, _and_ a competent barista?” Akechi leaned his head against the flat of his palm. “Your talents are wasted on petty thievery.”

“I may be good at what I do, but I can’t steal hearts forever. I was thinking café owner. Leblanc is nice, but I wouldn’t mind a roost of my own” he chuckled. Despite the lighthearted grin on his face, Akechi could see the faraway look in his eyes. “And if that doesn’t work out then at least I’d make a great trophy husband.” He winked. Akechi attempted to hide his blush by bringing his cup to his lips. The thief simply continued to smirk knowingly as he cleaned his equipment and the counter. As much as Akechi wanted to throw a snarky reply, the taste and smell of coffee silenced him. “What kind of beans did you use?”

“Kona. Pretty good, huh?”

“It’s quite exquisite. The taste is surprisingly light despite the bold aroma.” He took another sip and sighed contentedly. “In fact, I think you’ve earned yourself a regular customer at your future café,"

“I’d be honored.”

“Well, now that that’s out of the way—” Sod’s law prevailed as his phone revealed another message. The short preview of the message made his countenance darken as he shoved the device in his pocket.

‘S DEMANDS DEBRIEFING ON PT’

Akira sighed and threw the cleaning rag in the sink. “You should go then.” The warmth in his voice from earlier was long gone, and in its place was a bitter acceptance that seemed to stem from more than just his imminent departure.

“I should…” The bar stool squeaked in protest when he got up to leave. What should have been minutes felt agonizingly long as he pulled his shoes on and made his way to the door. Akira busied himself with checking the bean inventory. Akechi paused. His hand hovered over the doorknob until he turned around. A scowl marred his previously soft features. “…Kurusu?”

“Forgot something?” Akira began stiffly but froze when he saw the conflicted expression on the detective’s face. The sharp tones of his voice from earlier vanished in an instant. “What’s wrong?”

“I never anticipated how much I’ve come to appreciate your company. It’s frightening, almost.” Akechi struggled to find the words, but once he started they began pouring out like a torrent of rain. “I thought I had you all figured out. Maybe you were some kid that got high of a hero complex. Or maybe you were the type to just go with the flow. Maybe you were the selfless type who couldn’t walk away from someone in need, or the selfish type that hung onto any excuse to use the Metaverse—to be _needed_.” His voice grew louder in volume as he continued. “And yet, the more I actually speak with you, the less I understand! Why are you so…”

“Goro.”

Akechi looked up. Akira had made his way around the bar and stood in front of the detective.

“Are you afraid of me?” Akira asked quietly. Akechi shook his head but broke eye-contact. Akira smiled softly and gently took the detective’s hands in his. “Are you afraid of this?”

Silence.

“Why?”

“Nothing good ever comes out of stories like ours,” Akechi replied with a pained grimace. “As Chaucer once said, ‘if gold rust, what shall iron do?’”

“This is coming from the same guy that said…what was it? ‘Forbid us something, and that thing we desire’?” Akira countered slyly. “Keep pushing me and see what happens.”

“Hah, you are truly foolish. A complete and utter fool,” At long last, he finally cracked an honest smile since the conversation began. After another pause, he squeezed Akira’s hands gently. “If the time ever came and we stood on opposite sides, could you trust me?” Unblinkingly, Akira faced Akechi and nodded. “I need to hear you say it.”

Without an ounce of hesitation, he brought Akechi's hands to his lips. "I trust you. Always.”

Akechi simply nodded and reluctantly slipped out of Akira’s grasp. “Thank you.”

The chime of bells and the closing door signaled the end of their lazy Sunday. The only proof that the detective was there in the first place was the cold cup of coffee he left on the counter.

* * *

One draining phone conversation later, Akechi turned into an alley and slumped bonelessly against a rough brick wall. His phone hung loosely in his hands. Despite having to formulate a suitable excuse for neglecting his duties, he found he hardly cared for his increased workload. The back of his hand still tingled with warmth. For a long while he contemplated whether or not he was thankful for leaving his gloves at home. Akira's last words played over and over again in his mind. Akechi wouldn’t make a mistake this time. He brought his cellphone to his ear after dialing a number he long since traced.

After three rings, the voice that answered him was heavily distorted.

_**“You rang?”** _

“Oracle. Or should I call you Alibaba while we're outside the Metaverse?” Akechi greeted cheerfully. But the cheer never made it to his eyes. Not when across the street he could see a news report on his next mental shutdown target. “Remarkable bug, by the way. You are truly deserving of the Medjed name.”

**_“Cut the sweet talk, pretty boy. I have half a mind to stitch your face on the front page of BlueTube right now.”_ **

“Please don’t. As much as I enjoy the spotlight, that’s not the kind of attention I’m looking for,” His tone was light and charming, but the edges of his voice sharpened with a very real threat. When she responded with a dissatisfied noise, he gave up with the theatrics. “I need a favor.”

 _ **“I don’t know what’s more impressive. The fact you found my bug or that you haven’t fed us to the big boss yet.”**_ her voice was still distorted, but now she was taking on her verbal quirks. _**“I wonder how the police would react to their beloved detective prince’s criminal record…”**_

“I have my reasons for silence, and you have yours.”

_**“Noted. So what’s this favor?”** _

“For this to work, under _no_ circumstances can you tell the others. Not even Akira.”

 _ **“No blackmail? No threats? Wow, you’re honestly asking for a favor.”**_ She was skeptical and with good reason. If Futaba noticed the way Akechi called him by name, she didn’t question it. _ **“How do I know you’re not plotting something?”**_

“Replay the tapes from today in Leblanc. I know you were listening.” Akechi answered simply. He reveled a bit at the panicked and embarrassed sound she made (even if the distortion made it sound a little weird). After a beat he sighed in resignation. “Please. You’re the only one that can do it.”

 _ **"** **Alright… But I won't make any promises until I hear the full story."**_ Futaba huffed. _**“What do you need?”**_

“I’m going to murder Joker, and you’re going to help me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the sequel, _Stolen Time_ , coming to Ao3 soon.
> 
> I know, I’m evil.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be a one-shot but I decided to split it up into more parts. Haven't written fanfiction in so long so I'm a little out of practice. This was written in response to seeing fanart of Akechi in a ponytail. Mmmm it does things to my Shuake/Akeshu heart.


End file.
